[Cellophane by FKA Twiggs]

TRIGGER WARNING: PANIC ATTACKS, THE BRIEFEST MENTION OF SELF HARM

NINE: when you choose not to sink.

May 30, 2016

"Are you taking your medication?"

He seemed worried, he always did and I wasn't sure why he was staring at the knife in my hand like he was scared I was gonna do something stupid. Paul and I were making dinner one night when he'd brought it up. Eyes on mine, he paused his stirring and honestly, it shocked me that he would ask such a question so out of the blue.

I continued to chop the vegetables, not meeting his eyes again. "Yeah." And I had been taking them but recently, I didn't feel too good, it almost felt like I was becoming immune to them at that point because my lows were hitting harder than ever. I convinced myself that that was my fault. "Why do you keep asking me that?"

But I was taking my medication, one of the agreements of him taking me back would be that I would continue to take them and I definitely did not want to break up again, it wasn't good for me or us. It wasn't good to be off them either, I came to terms with that.

"You're just-" he'd voiced, shrugging as if he wasn't still looking at me and I tried not to take it to heart, setting the knife down just to ease him. Picking up the uncut carrots on the counter, I brought them to the sink and I was feeling a the tension in the air. I went to wash them, "you're not acting like yourself is all."

And I turned around, trying to appease him with a smile, "I'm fine, I'm just a little tired." And I had been tired, maybe I would take a nap after dinner, I was feeling less energetic recently and it was draining. I wasn't hungry much either and I knew he was right but I didn't want to worry him. I kept to myself more often now, he didn't need to know the same sob story every time I felt down anyways.

"Why are you lying to me?" His voice was soft and I turned to look at him, not even turning the sink off.

"What?"

And at that question, he walked over, turning the sink off and just looking at me. He stood in front of me then and I felt so small it was intimidating. My boyfriend was making eye contact with me and it felt like he were judging me for some reason. I just didn't feel the same as before and I was starting to feel like it was my fault for... not being happier. "Why can't you tell me?" He sounded sad, more upset than before and I didn't know what to say. I was just having a low period, it wasn't anything to tell him, I could handle it.

He wasn't there all the time, he wouldn't be, I had to learn how to deal with things on my own. "You don't think I notice the marks on your legs?"

Looking down, I pictured the little tick marks on my thighs, I didn't think much of it when he ran his fingers over them the night before. I hadn't hurt myself, I wasn't planning to and I didn't mean to either. When I got overwhelmed, I dug my nails into myself but it was always absentminded and I thought nothing of it.

But he was looking at me as if it broke it heart, as if me not seeing it earlier was hurting him and I wondered why he looked so betrayed. Did I hurt him?

I shook my head. I didn't understand how keeping to myself was a big deal. "Paul, I-"

He looked at me as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing then, as if he expected me to have more to say when he was cutting me off. And then he laughed the broken laugh he would let out before he started crying. Paul laughed when he was deeply upset, maybe it was how he coped with it and that always scared me.

HIs next words were paired with hitched breath and he bit his lip before speaking, as if he wasn't sure if he should. "You got out of bed last night to have a panic attack in the bathroom." Did I? I didn't remember that. I mean, I was restless but I was always a restless sleeper when I was jet lagged, I had just gotten back a week ago. "Why won't you let me be there for you?"

"I-I'm sorry?" I didn't know how to respond and maybe it came out as more of a question because he looked up to hold back his tears.

He was almost crying then and I could hear how choked up he was in his voice and it scared me. Reaching forward, I took his chin in my hand and he paused before he pulled away. Paul looked at me as I watched tears roll down his face and he shrugged, stepping back once. "You're not okay, and you don't feel comfortable telling me that anymore."

: : :

This had to be the worst feeling in the world.

"Fuck, pull it together." My breathing was heavy, my eyes scrunched closed, I could feel the tears pushing past and rolling down flushed cheeks. I could not breathe. I couldn't breathe when the nightmare had pulled me from my slumber, I'd never been good at letting my panic go once it had built up so I'd been harboring this pain all day.

It had been building since my breath hitched halfway through the day, the computer had shut down in the lab twelve minutes before the deadline for my Calculus online quiz assigned the day before. I'd forgotten the quiz and my laptop had been dead... I couldn't access the quiz on my phone so I found myself running to the lab at the resource building an hour before my deadline. And when I was close to finishing, the old computer had given up.

As soon as I realized that I'd lost the twenty-seven questions I'd already completed, I paused for a second, my heart jumping in my throat and my stomach dropped. For the next twelve minutes, I'd rushed through, repicking all my answers and when 4:59 had rolled around, I had to submit thirty-two out of the forty questions that I completed, missing the two analysis short-answers at the end.

I didn't want to cry in the lab, I couldn't as I sat there, trying not to overthink it. I couldn't think of how much the quiz was worth or how much it would pull down my already struggling grade. I tried not to overthink it, tried not to stand up too fast before I felt my body breaking down on me. I tried to blame the professor for closing the quiz at the time the class ended instead of midnight like every other professor.

And then I'd thought of all the other assignments I had missed, my anxiety creeping up and reminding me that I had close deadlines and my schedule wasn't the best it could be. I found myself rethinking what I'd previously thought a thousand times over and then I started to convince myself that I had all my deadlines wrong, that I didn't know when anything was due, that I had too much to do and I couldn't get any of it done.

I found myself swallowing this down, pushing myself out of the chair without a sound and almost forgetting to log off. I then stalked back to my dorm, blasting music in my ears to distract myself from the damaging thoughts thrumming through my brain. When I'd gotten there, I didn't allow myself any time to sulk, instantly working on my homework and that pushed until the two hours of sleep I'd gotten the night before had pushed me to knock out.

And alike every other night, my brain had woken me up, a nightmare I couldn't remember once I felt my eyes opening and I started to hate myself for not being able to even sleep. My head was aching, probably from the lack of sleep and I found myself pulling my knees to my chest and laying my head on them. My panic attacks sometimes came in a fury of thrashing limbs but those had ended a while ago, now it existed in silence and buzzing skin stretched over shaking bones. I felt my heart ready to break my rib-cage, it jumped so fast, I felt dizzy and the nausea I'd been feeling for weeks was reappearing.

I felt cold, my bony tensing and I looked over at Danny's bed, trying to calm down from the sight of him. Normally the comfort of other people being around would help, normally knowing that it wasn't just me would help but recently, the embarrassment would loom over me at the idea that I was just fucking sitting there helpless in my own goddamn body.

I tried to keep myself quiet, tried not to wake him but the more I held it back, the more back-up it became and then I was trying to catch my previously shallow breath, I tried counting.

And I could hear Danny stirring, pushing my hand to my mouth to stop the whimpers I'd started let out. Lonely was engulfing me, sucking me down into my sheets and I couldn't move.

"You good?"

He was groggy when I'd looked over, his eyes barely open and I'd woken him up a few times with my incessent worries, I was sure he was annoyed. Nodding, I tried to calm down and shame picked at me, my nails digging into the skin of my legs almost as if I were trying to peel the feeling away, I couldn't even feel the pinch.

"Hey..." Danny tried to calm me then, this is what he'd done every time, he wasn't the worst at it but he never really knew what to say besides, "you're fine, you're gonna be okay." And sometimes you didn't need comfort but more so someone else acknowledging that it fucking sucked to be a victim to your own stupid body.

But I couldn't be picky.

He was rubbing the sleep from his eyes, getting up then and I found myself following him with my eyes, he was pulling on shoes. I was busy trying not to think about the fact that I was running him out of his own room, swallowing thick and I tried to count again. "You gonna be good, just breathe."

I'd been through it enough, it was at it's peak and I told myself it was gonna end, I repeated his words in my head. Closing my eyes, I replaced my thoughts with Danny's voice.

You're gonna be okay, you're fine, you're gonna be okay.

It went like that for a few more minutes and he didn't move.

Just breathe.

I started to recall a recent day that wasn't bed, started to think of the whole entire day, placing it like it were an event that was scheduled. I thought of what I had for breakfast that day, then going to the store and working in class and I'd felt myself relaxing a little.

And then my limbs felt heavier, the numb had subsided, I could feel myself stretching my legs back out, the burn of my fingernail marks.

I breathed in through my nose, letting it exit through trembling lips and I sat like that for a few minutes.

Danny was moving again, him rustling through things and I watched as he pulled a black bag out from his dresser. "Do you wanna go somewhere?" He wasn't even looking at me then, him placing the bag on the floor to toss a hoodie over his head and pick up an empty Gatorade bottle when he was done.

I would've thought he was annoyed with me if he didn't smile once he turned back, his words inviting.

"Where?" There was a grit in my voice, it barely there and I felt proud of myself for even letting it out. Danny shrugged.

"I always smoke down at the beach." He voiced and I must've agreed because he was grabbing his keys, walking out the door then and before it had swung closed, he'd poked his head back in. "You coming?"

: : :

June 5th, 2016

"What was that?" I was staring down at the shards, my heart rate accelerating by the second. Paul's worried voice was bellowing through the room as I instantly tried to pick it up and put it back together. It was fucking broken. Fuck.

I'd ruined it. He'd worked so hard on this piece and now it was fucking ruined because of me. Dropping to my knees, I tried to pick up the pieces of a sculpture he'd made.  Fuck. My throat was clogging and I could feel myself crying before I could stop it, his footsteps were loud as he entered in a hurry.

And when he saw what had happened, he paused. "Julian." He sounded heartbroken and that only made me cry harder, I tried to choke out apologies.

"Hey, let me see." He was on his knees then, trying to pull the pieces from my hands and I shook my head. He's gonna be so mad at me.

Fuck.

"I'm s-s-sorry." I couldn't breathe, swallowing back a lump that kept appearing in my throat. I was sobbing then as he looked at me, I could feel tears hitting my bare thighs, only his sweatshirt covering my shaking body. "I'm sorry." My heart hurt, I had fucked up. He spent days making it and because I wanted to go into his studio, I knocked it over like a dumbass.

He looked scared when he'd finally gotten the pieces out of my hands and I was staring in his eyes so intently, I hadn't even noticed the cuts until he'd said something. "Baby, you're bleeding." That was when I smelled blood, looking down, I saw the little cuts on my fingers. They weren't that big but they were certainly bleeding enough for them to stain his sweatshirt and I could barely feel it.

Clenching my hands, I pulled away from him, my stomach sinking at the fact that I was messing up his clothes as well. I felt sick. I'm so sorry.

"I-I-I-"

Pablo was holding my wrists then, pushing up the sleeves and he didn't acknowledge the blood on his shirt. My blood was on his skin then and he tried to get me to stand. "Hey, no, come here."

Please don't break up with me.

"I-I-" And then I was rushing as he stood me up, trying to make him less mad at me, he guided me around the pieces on the ground. He was selling this piece, had a buyer lined up and everything and that day in particular, he was telling me just how excited he was that it was his first 3D model going into a gallery and I just went into his studio and I was careless. "I didn't-I didn't mean to- I'm sorry."

I ruined everything for him and he was going to break up with me.

When he heard me, he paused, hands grabbing my face and he was brushing tears from my soaked cheeks. I could finally feel the air hitting my cuts then and they stung.

But Pablo was shaking his head then, "Baby, I am not mad at you." His voice was gentle yet firm and I could feel my heart getting ready to explode, "It's okay, these things happen, it's not your fault." And he was brushing hair out of my eyes, leaning forward to kiss my lips gently, "I love you more than any shitty piece of art, okay? I love you... I don't blame you."

He was grabbing my hands again in his warm ones and inspecting my cuts, I watched as the blood dotted up, trying to allow his words to sink in. And then he was taking me to the bathroom to get the anticeptic and some bandaids."Y-you were so mad, I-I-I thought you were... I thought-" Sucking in some air as he dabbed the rubbing alcohol over my skin, I bit my lip.

I thought he was going to leave me.

"I'm not mad, I promise." And he bandaged me up, kissing my fingertips afterwords.

It was silent for a second and I'd been sitting on the bathroom counter, it felt like another time where he had to cater to me. When he had to treat me like something so fucking delicate, I wondered how long it would be until he'd realized that he'd never signed up to be my caretaker.

"Can you talk to me?"

He wasn't looking at me, he wasn't putting any pressure on me to answer right away but I could hear pain in his voice, hope on the end. "You don't have to right now, I just need you to communicate with me, Jules."

"I don't know how."

"I love you—"

"I know."

That wasn't the problem.

"I just, I don't know how to- you just, you expect me to just... be better."

And I was crying into my knees now and he didn't know how to reach me, again. We sat there for a while until I grew tired enough for bed and he cooked dinner for two.

"I want to. I do, I want it, I just, I don't know how to not fffeel like this."

: : :

The sand under my fingertips felt gritty and I could feel every last speck. My limbs felt heavy and I could feel the breeze running onto the back of my thighs brushing under my gym shorts. My knees were up again and inside, I thanked Danny for reminding me to put on sneakers and a hoodie cause California got surprisingly cold at night.

The boy beside me had held out his blunt then, it burning. His black bag was apparently all of his weed and the shit that he needed with it. He'd opened it once finding a spot on the beach and I briefly felt annoyed that he held all that stuff in our dorm and then I wondered how he hadn't gotten caught.

But I didn't care much about that when he was rolling, not enough to ask. I leant back on my elbows and watched the tide pushing closer and closer to the shore. The feeling of cold had washed away at some point and I felt warm from inside my body, and I could feel just how the fabric of my undershirt felt on my skin and differentiate that feeling from the fabric of my shorts.

When he'd passed it back over, he'd gotten busy burning a hole in his Gatorade bottle and when he overdid it, he burned another. I wondered what he was doing, I'd seen holes in Ben's bottles a few times in high school but I never really asked.

And when Danny had placed a small blunt in the hole and lit it, I realized what he was doing.

"So, who was that guy?" That was what he'd asked once he told me to clear his bottle for him. I wondered if I should put my lips on the same place he did and then I pushed that thought away. I found myself sputtering when I'd inhaled too fast, pushing my fist to my mouth to wave the smoke from my face and Danny laughed.

I tried not to cough too much, tried not to wheeze and show just how much of an amateur I was and he'd pulled the bottle out of my hands. "Yeah, you're high."

"How'd I know that question was coming?" I asked once I'd caught my breath, Danny's laughing dying out and he was looking out at the ocean as well. I felt serene and my voice sounded it, my words were slow and had more bass than usual.

"Cause we both know the only thing that matters is who's cuming."

He was laughing at his own joke and although it wasn't that funny, I laughed as well. "Lame."

My roommate laughed then, looking over and I wasn't sure if his eyes just looked red from how red mine were but he pushed my shoulder. I swayed. "Who is he?"

Shrugging, I pushed my fingertips over the sand again, it feeling different than before and I answered the most honest way possible. "Sullivan, he's cool." I hadn't talked to him yet, hadn't used the number he's given and honestly, it probably had a lot to do with how scared I'd been. I was trying not to push it in gears that I wasn't ready for it and deep down, I knew I wasn't.

"Just cool?" Danny pushed, his eyebrow raised and normally, I wouldn't have even told him that.

"He's a med student." And I found myself opening up, trying not to think about who I was talking to. Danny had been trying to get me to tell him things about guys I'd been talking to for a few months now. He constantly asked, maybe it was him trying to make me comfortable. "I don't know, he's cute."

"There we go."

"I'm sorry that it's weird to talk about attractive men with a straight guy."

He laughed at that, shrugging and he was smoking the rest of his blunt then, stretching his neck back and blowing the smoke up into the air. "I talk about girls." And he did, he would even go as far as to describe exactly how they felt when he was inside. Maybe this was guy talk but it felt so uncomfortable to think of letting him know anything like that.

"Yeah but that's normal." I stated the obvious. It was normal for him to talk about girls, most straight men didn't like to think about gay sex.

"Thinking like that is fuckin stupid." He spoke and I don't know why it took me back, Danny never really had a filter anyways. "No offense," he added absentmindedly.

And then he moved on. "So you like this guy-"

"I never said I liked him."

As if it was funny, he raised his eyebrows, looking at me as if I were stupid. "You ran to talk to him, literally full-on sprinted." He said, turning to look at me and then he was holding out the blunt, offering it to me but I hadn't had any intention on getting higher. I was content and when I was too high, I got shaky. He died it out in a little packet before placing it in there. "And we're still talking about him, we never talk about boys."

And it was true, we never talked about boys, I never wanted to. But, I was feeling more inclined to divulge all of my secrets that night and Danny seemed willing to hear me tell him how screwed up my life was so I found myself recalling it.

"I talked to my ex," Danny paused then and I felt like I had to elaborate because if I stayed too quiet, it gave him time to judge me even more. "When I went home."

And he shook his head, "Bro..."

"We fucked," if he wanted me to start telling him shit, he would have to get used to it and honestly, I would too. I kept talking, trying to let it out before I lost all my confidence, I needed to talk to someone, "his new not-boyfriend showed up, they live together."

Danny's eyes were wide then, him turning to me as if he were completely intrigued yet also stunned that I even had it in me and honestly, I wasn't sure how I was still here me being the emotionally unstable person I was. Thinking about it, that shit should've ruined me. "Shit, man." Right. It didn't feel real, I could talk about it and it didn't really hurt at all so I took advantage of that, it almost felt like a movie. Danny looked alarmed and almost as if it were obvious, he asked, "You beat his ass?"

I shook my head. Isaiah was fucking huge and although I'd bulked up, I knew I couldn't fight him even if I wanted to. Pissing Paul off wasn't my intention either, I wasn't even sure what my intentions were. "I wanna move on."

That was music to Danny's ears and he made that clear with a shake of my shoulder. He was gripping it and looking at me as if it were the most serious thing in the world and he looked it too. "Good, that dwelling shit brings you down. Sullivan's into you." At that, he pushed my shoulder back, giving me a look that I couldn't decipher and it was silent then.

I was convinced that long silences made Danny uncomfortable because he stood after a while, pulling his hoodie off and I tried not to look over at his bare torso. What the fuck was he doing?

Kicking his shoes off, he pulled his socks off and then he was looking at me. "Wanna swim?" He's asked, jerking his head towards the ocean and  I furrowed my brows checking the time on my phone.

"It's 2am." I voiced and Danny just shrugged.

"Okay?"

"Sharks feed at this time."

He shrugged again and with a smirk, he said, "Sharks feed every time I step foot into water."

And lame joke aside, it sounded like impending hypothermia. Just thinking about the water made me cold again and I was shaking but there was still a smile on my face, "I don't have my trunks."

"I don't either, come on." He was reaching down to yank my arm and pull me up and my legs almost caved in at the unexpected action. "Nobody wants to fuck a pussy." I stopped myself before I fell into his chest, and almost as if he were thinking, he corrected himself. "Wait, no gay guy wants to fuck a pussy."

I watched as he stepped away and ran out to shore, stepping into the water and I just laughed. I felt so lightheaded and it was freeing, I wasn't stressed, I was fucking free.

The next morning, I found myself laying in bed before I had to go to practice, salt water soaked into my skin. I'd slept better than I had in weeks and my fingers found my phone nestled in my sheets. Holding it in my hand, I worked up the courage to unlock it and go to messages.

And to a number that I'd saved days before in the hopes I wouldn't pussy out.

Hey, is this Sullivan?
sent.

A/N:

third update of pride month, honestly, am I okay?

after this, i'll give you guys a break with some happiness so it's not completely sad out here. i'm breaking my own heart to be honest, i can only imagine how you feel.

what was your favorite scene from open? who's your favorite character and why?

Updated: Sunday, June 9th 2019.